The Red Seige
by Elf Knight
Summary: Will and Horace launched a successful seige of their own. But how long would they last under a seige back home? Moreover, how would Will's new apprentice survive, find help, and get the girl all at once?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Greetings all! This is just a quick notice to inform you that I do not own Ranger's Apprentice in any way nor any of the characters in it. First off, I would like to thank a certain Lady Maeror for agreeing to be my Beta-Reader. She has done an exallent job on reviewing my chapter and deserves a lot of credit. This fanfic was inspired from The Siege of Macindaw when Will Treaty and Horace Altman lay siege to Castle Macindaw in the hopes of rescuing Lady Alyss and stopping their enemies. I found myself wondering since they laid siege so well with the basic necesities, how would they fair in a siege themselves? The answer lies within my fanfic although I want to say that my story might not nescesarily be true.

Also, I will say that this fanfic is inspired from myths like Robin Hood and the Arthurian Legend. I may *borrow* one or two of the events from that folklore but I in no way intend any sort of infringment. Well, that about sums it up for now other than the usual ~ Please read and review! In addition, take note! Things might not always turn out as they will seem to. Last but not least, I would like to say that I received the title partly from the fact that it the story is mainly set in Redmont Fief which stands for part of the "Red" in the title and the "siege." The "Red" part in the siege also symbolizes blood and war and death which are a part of any siege. Let this be a warning to you in case you missed out the warning previously. So now without any further ado, allow me to present the first chapter of The Red Siege!

**Chapter 1:** The Giant and the Dwarf

All was silent. Not a single bird called to its fellow nor did any kind of squirrel make that squeaking racket squirrels so often make. In fact, there were neither of these creatures in the quiet forest glade. The clearing amongst the woods was of a substantial size for a camp of three and for. However, only one person was situated within the island of grass. A crackling fire emanating a soft, grey smoke was there too. The person sat on an old tree stump, hunched over hugging his knees to his chest. He stared morosely into the fire.

Thomas Tanner sighed.

Although he was only fourteen years of age, he was huge and this was part of the reason why he was out in a bleak forest alone and quite a ways away from any civilization. He wore a tunic of drab grey over a pair of dark leggings tucked into soft, leather boots. A belt was tied around his waist and an old sword in a rusty-looking scabbard lay at his feet. Trying to shake away the continual feeling of gloom and doom, he ran his hand through his thick, red hair that fell to his shoulders. Most of the time, it was tied into a single braid but now he wore it freely. A lone tear trickled out of his grey eyes.

He was an outcast. Thomas had been thrown out of his village several months ago due to his unnaturally large size that kept getting larger and larger. Despite his youth he was already a solid six feet tall. He was broad-shouldered and strong like a giant, earning him that nickname. His parents had born the scorn he received for a while but they couldn't stand it for too much longer. That was when he was banished from the village with the clothes on his back, a sleeping roll, enough food for a week, and the old sword his father gave him. He had no idea where his old man got it from but it was as unusual as him. Definitely ancient of years, the weapon was a massive claymore-like thing.

The blade alone was four feet long and incredibly wide. He could easily picture it slicing clean through a man severing his body in half. He winced at the disturbing mental image. Through the rust and grime from years of disuse and neglect, he could vaguely see that the scabbard had once been an eerie blood-red with what looked like strange runes all over the sheath. Stranger yet were the crosspiece and the pommel both of which were shaped like the letter "V." While the crosspiece was an upside-down "V," the pommel was the right side up and shorter than the crosspiece by a couple inches so that it fit snugly in its shadow but allowed a space in between the two pieces at the same time. The handle was big enough for him to use both hands comfortably and all three pieces under the blade were a dark purple.

He would have liked to see the huge sword in its normal state, but he had nothing to clean it with all alone in the woods outside his village in this backwater area of Seacliff Fief. Heaving a sigh, he turned over the spit full of rabbit meat that balanced precariously over the fire on a crude combination of sticks and vines. He had learned how to make basic traps when he was younger still and these proved useful. Of course, he wished for better food but this was all he could afford in this merciless environment. Just as he was about to settle back down in his cloud of despair, he was jolted into alarm as he heard the faint sound of someone talking and a horse braying softly in response.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he stood up quickly and snatched up his sword and uncooked meat. He stomped out the fire hastily and hurried over to the far side of the glade where an overgrown hedge bush offered a protective hiding place for smaller objects. He stuffed the sword and spit in there and slid out a tall and sturdy staff. After his food from home ran out and with no means of earning money on his own, he found himself forced to use this. He stripped it from a young sapling of an oak tree and carved it the best he could with a sharp rock. To make more of a weapon, he sharpened the end of the staff into a spearhead-like point.

When no game showed up in his traps, he had to use the staff to steal from travellers passing by. He hated every minute of it but what was he to do? Mostly, his bulky size scared them into submission and his coarse threats. He hardly lived up to them. He took up the staff now in a shaky hand and padded as quietly through the woods as possible to see who was coming and if they had food. He had taken to stealing more than once and it was becoming far easier than hunting his own food. His breath quickened as the minutes fled onwards to what could be another meal or a thief-catcher. He had let all of his victims escape once he robbed them so, no doubt, at least one had complained to the local authorities.

After a time, his journey came to an end and he ducked behind a wide oak. His heart pounding wildly from the thrill of excitement mingled with fear, he peered cautiously from behind. His shoulders sagged as relief washed over him. He let out a small pent-up breath. He had stopped in front of an old river that meandered through the woodlands. He would come hear often to get a drink and bathe. The river was a wide strip of rushing, chilly water cascading swiftly over rocks and water plants. A simple bridge consisting of a few logs and planks granted access to the other side. It was on the other side that the newcomer now sat, resting on the bank with his feet bare and plunged into the water.

His first feeling of relief was quickly replaced by a sense of bravado as he realized the newcomer sitting there was no threat at all. He was a short young man, or so he thought. In fact, he was shorter than five feet tall. His form was lanky or what some might call thin. Yet there was a slight air of strength about him, a different strength than that of a warrior or a knight. Giving himself a mental shake, he addressed the outfit of the newcomer to find out what kind of person he was. Unfortunately, the newcomer only wore a mottled green and grey cloak that was drawn tight about his body to fend off the autumn breeze. Well, his hood was thrown back against his shoulders revealing a head of tousled brown hair, clean-shaven youthful face, and honest enough eyes.

Thomas hesitated. He was pretty sure the newcomer hadn't seen him yet and he didn't appear to have any possessions. He was simply sitting by himself enjoying the freshness of cool water and taking a break from his journey. A shaggy pony wearing an oddly-shaped saddle cropped grass close by the bank of the river. Was it worth it? No. He should... His train of thought was interrupted when a sudden command shattered the stillness of the woods.

"Show yourself, stranger!"

Thomas froze, realizing with a start that the stranger had seen him. But how was that possible? He managed to catch all of his victims unawares! Why not this fellow?

"I know you're there," The stranger continued in a pleasant voice. "You are hiding behind a large oak tree a couple feet to the right of the bridge's end."

Thomas's heart sank. Was the man a magician of some sort? A sorcerer, perhaps? He had heard wild tales of creepy old men shrouded by dark cloaks called Rangers. In reality, they were workers of the Dark Arts and black magic was like a walk in the park. The mingled with devils and demons. Fierce fighting men from the north in swift longboats were their allies and their servants were dark-skinned desert tribes from the east. In fact, before leaving the village the latest gossip spree was about how some Rangers were stirring up trouble in a distant land, gallivanting off with a traitor emperor. Surely the newcomer could not be one of them!

"Come on, there!" The newcomer said sounding exasperated. "I don't bite."

"Yeah, right," Thomas muttered to himself.

From all the stories he had heard, biting could have been a second nature to those Rangers. Chills raced down his spine. His mind flashed back to the mental image of the Ranger sitting calmly and serenely by the river. He only seemed a few years older than him, eighteen at the most. What harm could he do? Besides, the Ranger had spotted him and every sane person knew there was no hope in evading a Ranger.

Alright fine, he reasoned. So the Ranger wanted to see him, did he? Well the Ranger would see him alright! His grip on his staff tightened as he leapt out from behind the tree, vaulting through the air. He landed with a dull thud in front of his end of the bridge, squatting on one knee. He held the staff in front of him, standing it proud and tall close to his face. The warning was clear. The newcomer's mouth curled up into a smile of what could have been amusement.

"Impressive," He remarked casually. "But I can do better!"

In a blur of motion faster than anything Thomas had ever seen, the Ranger produced a massive longbow seemingly out of nowhere. An arrow was notched and sang through the air with blinding speed. In seconds, the arrow passed straight through the staff right between his eyes. The arrowhead stopped only centimetres from his face. Thomas blanched in surprise. From amid the myriad of conflicting stories regarding Rangers, all of them conceded to the fact that only one Ranger could shoot with such accuracy and speed.

And that was the Ranger called Will Treaty!

To Be Continued in Chapter 2...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:** Rogue versus Ranger

Thomas simply sat there numb with shock.

He tried to grasp the fact that the famous Will Treaty was at the opposite end of the bridge and had shot an arrow nearly between his eyes. It was unreal! The Ranger, meanwhile, had already notched another arrow but hadn't fired it yet. Instead, it was maintained at the ready, levelled at Thomas's neck to be fired in a moment's notice should the need arise.

Thomas shivered.

"Since I seem to have the upper hand," The Ranger was saying in a stern tone of voice but not harshly. "I suggest you tell me who you are and what business you have stalking a bridge. If you are the vagabond I have heard so much about then be warned. I am a fully-fledged King's Ranger and am fully capable of clapping you in irons, which I fully intend to do if you are that man.

Thomas's mind reeled.

So this newcomer really _was _the Ranger by the name of Will Treaty! A living legend lurked at the other end of the bridge waiting to pounce on him if he reveals his name.

"Hurry up, fellow," The Ranger said. "I don't have all day."

Thomas needed to buy time. He needed to take stock of things and see if there was yet a way of escape. He didn't want to end up in prison, not yet anyway. There had to be a way out. There simply had to!

His mind raced.

A thought struck him and he snapped out of his reverie.

"I am an innocent forced into these woods not of my own choosing," He said. "Because of that I won't give up without a fight." He had no idea why he said what he did next. He just blurted it out on impulse. "If you win, you get to haul me off to prison. If I win, you take me on as your apprentice!"

For a split second, pure shock registered on the Ranger's face. His shock mirrored Thomas's own. Later on, he would still be unable to explain why he said that. It just came from him inexorably. He couldn't put his finger on it but call it destiny, fate, or fright pushing him to do wild things; it just happened. Once again, the Ranger smiled. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes. He nodded shortly.

"Very well," He said. "I am a fair man and will accept your terms."

_What?_ Thomas's mind screamed at him. _You asked to become his apprentice? Are you insane? Rangers are witches of the dark and wraiths of the forest. They hide in the shadows and can even become invisible at will. You are a downright_ fool_ to become his apprentice. What were you thinking?_

Truth be told, Thomas had no idea what he _was_ thinking at the time. The terms just burst out of him without his consent. Oh, well. He'd just have to make the best of it!

The Ranger's eyes narrowed.

"But there will be rules," He said. "Break one and I get to take you to prison even if you're winning. There will be rules. How do you wish to fight?"

"Wait!" Thomas stuttered. "You're just accepting me like that?"

He flicked his fingers for emphasis.

The Ranger grinned.

"I'm not an idiot, you know," He said with the hint of a warning in his voice. "I came here at a friend's behest. I was told that the infamous John Buttle of Seacliff Fief had returned from the dead and is harassing innocent bystanders foolish enough to pass through these woods. I did not believe my sources at first but I was begged to come. Thus, I decided it was worth a looking into. Now that I see you, I see that you are not, in fact, John Buttle.

"You look a lot like him but are different. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt in that matter. Also, I don't want my journey here to be in vain. A fight would spice things up even if there is the chance of me taking a new apprentice. I doubt you would make a very good Ranger but you never know. Also, I never lose! Even so, I do enjoy a challenge. Now, who are you and how do we fight?"

"My name is Thomas Tanner and we shall use..." Thomas trailed off trying to determine which way would be the best one to fight.

His eyes dropped to his staff that was waiting almost expectantly for the fight to ensue.

"We will use staffs," He said.

"But I don't have one!" The Ranger said.

"Doesn't matter," Thomas replied. "You can cut one for yourself. I'm sure that would be the least of your abilities considering the circumstances." 

The Ranger smirked and jumped up nimbly, landing softly onto the river bank. He shrugged off his cloak to reveal simple clothes of brown and green. He stooped down and produced a strange type of knife. Sliding it free of its sheath, he hefted it carefully in his hand and strode over to a clump of trees and bushes several feet away.

After casting about for a fallen branch of considerable size, he found one that was poking its way out of a bramble bush. The Ranger proceeded then to carve it to a certain length. He tested it to see if it could withstand blows from an opposing staff. When he was satisfied, he returned to his end of the bridge. The chilly water flowed swiftly beneath them.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas stepped onto the bridge and walked halfway across it. The Ranger followed in suit. The two young people tensed for a moment.

Without warning, the Ranger lashed out catching Thomas in the ribs with his staff. Caught off guard, Thomas sputtered and staggered but regained his balance just in time to avoid another jab by the short but quick-witted Ranger. He hopped back as the opposing staff was thrust towards his ribcage. But Thomas wasn't always on the defensive and managed to deliver several good blows of his own.

_Crack!_

The Ranger's staff landed smartly on his left shoulder. Thomas winced but backed away as the staff flung forward to his stomach.

_Bang!_

Thomas used that opportunity to surprise the Ranger by faking a blow to block the staff. Instead, he whirled his own one around and brought it down on the Ranger's foot. Cursing, the Ranger bounced about. But just as Thomas took a few seconds to get a quick breather, the Ranger heaved and wacked his right arm with his staff.

Thomas yelped in surprise, but regained his bearings quickly. With a cry to distract the Ranger, he whirled his staff in the air and aimed for the Ranger's knuckles. The Ranger dropped his staff automatically as the blow struck home. In that split second, Thomas wacked the Ranger's ankles, flinging him into the river.

"Oh!" The Ranger said in stunned surprise, before plummeting into the river with a resounding splash.

Heaving a sigh, Thomas sat on the bridge and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He let his feet dip into the water, soothing them.

"Ah," He said a little too long for emphasis. "That feels nice!"

The Ranger scowled at him. Then he grinned and hoisted himself up onto the bank.

"Well," He said slowly after wringing the water out of his tousled, brown hair. "Looks like I owe you something."

"Ur, yes," Thomas said not too certain if he wanted to press the bargain.

"So how does it feel for a boy to beat the 'all-famous' Ranger Will Treaty?" The Ranger asked.

Thomas's eyes widened. "You know?"

The Ranger nodded with a grin.

"Yes," He answered. "I knew all along. This was my old fief before I returned to Redmont Fief. I was asked by an old friend of mine in the village to check up on some giant of a rogue in the woods. Apparently, you've made travelling through these parts not the best way to pass the time. At first, I was ready to send you into jail. But after doing some research first, I found out why and I can sympathize."

Thomas's eyes narrowed and was about to ask something when the Ranger held up his hands for silence.

"You still want to become my apprentice?" He asked.

Thomas hesitated. He nodded finally.

"Good," The Ranger said. "Then we should get moving."

"Thank you, um, Ranger," Thomas said uneasily, still unsure of what to call his newfound master.

"Please," The Ranger said. "Call me Will."


End file.
